


The First Rule of Flying

by WingcommanderArthurShappey



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, Skipthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingcommanderArthurShappey/pseuds/WingcommanderArthurShappey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not written in any of Martin's flight manuals, but Arthur knows it's true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The thing is that Arthur misses Skip, more than he can say. 

The thing is that when they take off and soar up into the big, blue sky (and it used to be like a giant hand of air and sunlight reaching out for him to stroke his hair, but now it's not), he no longer thinks about the amazingness of planes and the fact that something so large and heavy can be made to fly. The thing is that when they take off and set towards the clouds, like cotton balls lined up above a ginormous baby bed, he thinks of Skip.

The thing is that when he makes coffee for two people, he thinks of Skip, because half of the coffee will always be for Skip, but Skip has someone else making him coffee now.

The thing is that when they land, and when they get home, and when they settle in for the night, Arthur thinks of Skip. 

Long months before Skip left, they watched a film together, and it was about flying, and what makes you stay up in the air if you do it right, and Martin thought Arthur didn't notice him blinking back his tears, but he did. 

Sometimes these days, he's afraid Gertie's gonna drop out of the sky.

The thing is that Arthur misses Skip more than he can say, much more. And it's weird, really, how the world can seem so distant when you're a part of it, but something's happened and now Arthur feels a deep, quiet distance between himself and everyone else, and it's like staring up at the sun from a little boat in a white sea that goes on for ever, or like watching the earth slowly crawl across the silvery horizon of the moon. He's never been to the moon, or on a little boat in a white sea that goes on for ever, but he imagines that's what it feels like. 

When Arthur lies in his bed at night, it feels like he's floating on feathers through the night sky, and he thinks of Skip. And he never falls down. 

The thing is that, no matter how hard he tries not to, Arthur always thinks of Skip. His Skip. His Martin.

And there's an empty seat in the flight deck even when someone's sitting in it. Arthur sees right through people these days, if he doesn't pay attention. He doesn't do it on purpose, promise. He'd never do something like that on purpose. Other people aren't something that should be ignored, ever. The thing is that Arthur is busy remembering.

And he's always remembering, even when he wakes up in the morning. That's the hardest part, where he has to remember all the things that happened, and he has to decide which of them happened in his dreams. Sometimes he wishes none of them did. 

Sometimes these days, he's afraid Gertie's gonna drop out of the sky like a popped balloon. Because maybe he has to pretend that he's still his normal self to keep her up in the air. Because maybe she'll notice.  Because maybe that's the way things work. Because the first rule of flying is love. 


	2. Chapter 2

There are nights so clear it seems like you only have to reach out to pluck a handful of stars from the sky, like cold, white flowers that will burn your fingertips. Sometimes Arthur stands on the empty runway and smells the oil that lies in rainbow circles on the ground, and every breath tastes of petrol. Today, he stands in the door of the hangar with the little hoover in his arms, and he remembers when cleaning Gertie from head to tail made him feel like the happiest steward in the world. Well, afterwards, that is. No one likes scraping dried orange juice from a dirty carpet floor, but everyone likes a properly clean plane. And he looks up at all the twinkly little suns through the thick veil of golden airport light, and wonders what the nights are like in Switzerland. 

The wind is sneaking under his clothes. He closes the hangar door and turns and walks back towards his car, and he takes great care to step into one of the little rainbow puddles, so that it colours his footprints. 

It's not like he doesn't laugh anymore. It's nothing like that. He smiles just as much as he did before Skip left. 

The thing is that he doesn't always completely mean it. The thing is that deep in his heart, he knows that his laughter sounds like it's coming from inside an empty watering can. And when he looks in the mirror, he sees himself wondering how long it'll be until he'll meet Skip again. 

There was a time when Skip wore Arthur's uniform. On good days, he pretends it still smells of Martin. And that makes him happy.

What's the first rule of flying? He knows it. Skip knows it too. He supposes that's why he's flying a different plane now, and he wonders if the people at Swiss Airways know. He hopes they do, and he hopes they love Skip like Arthur loves him. 

It gets better, though. It gets better. He hasn't looked at his Skype for ages, because it's a bit exhausting to smile when all you can think about is that it's a shame you can't reach through a screen. He has the feeling that he'll look at it soon, though. And maybe he'll send one of the letters, which are more like a diary by now, except that the pages are all carefully kept apart by coloured envelopes, and Martin is never allowed to read them all at once.   


He might figure out the lie. 

Arthur has gotten really good at lying without falling over. 

Now he knows how Baloo felt when Mowgli left for the human village. It's not  _really_ a happy ending.

But it gets better. Eventually. 


End file.
